


Anecdotes & Asides

by RedEyedRyu



Series: Apathy & Happenstance [2]
Category: Underfell - Fandom, Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Reverse Harem, Side Story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-28 19:56:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17793749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedEyedRyu/pseuds/RedEyedRyu
Summary: Contained within are side stories and bonus content for the main fic,Apathy & Happenstance.First up:It's the Underfell brothers' first Valentine's on the surface. Sans all but forces you to take him to a local burger joint and you take the opportunity to introduce the brothers to a holiday tradition.





	Anecdotes & Asides

**Author's Note:**

> As far as timeline goes, this can be seen as occurring at some point a bit down the road from where we currently are in _A &H_. This chapter can be considered canon.

It’s Thursday afternoon and you’re sitting in the outdoor portion of some random restaurant Sans had expressed a strong interest in visiting. He’d said something about judging whether or not the joint held up to its claims of having the best burgers in town. You assume he saw a commercial or something advertising the place while channel surfing but with the way he had announced you were heading out, (because he hadn’t asked, no, just announced it to you the moment you had walked in the door that afternoon) it was almost as if he had been issued a formal challenge by the business itself or something.

A quick glance at a few of the tables around you shows numerous couples seated about, with the near deafening noise that floats out every time the patio’s door is opened a testament to the business’s popularity. Though, considering the day and your general aversion to dining out, it’s impossible to tell if this is typical weekday traffic or if it’s because of the “holiday”. Part of you wonders why Sans had to choose _today_ of all days for a public outing while another wonders if the monster’s even _aware_ of what today is. Probably not, you decide, but no matter. It’s not often that he expresses interest in going somewhere, so despite having wanted nothing more than to de-stress on the couch after a less than stellar day at work, you had agreed to take him out. Papyrus had passed when you asked if he wanted to accompany the both of you (something about greasy food being of the lowest caliber and not worth his time nor attention) so it was just the two of you, out amid the sea of lovebirds.

A fleeting thought crosses your mind and it causes you to pause the absent minded twirling of the straw in your glass. You wind up focusing on the thought, stuck to the idea like a bee on honey: do the random passersby see you and Sans sitting here, having dinner together, and make assumptions? Ice clinks in your glass as you shift your gaze to the skeleton seated across from you, completely ignorant to your inner musing as he all but inhales his meal. A mixture of grease and condiments are dripping down his jaw and phalanges, some of the mess even dribbling down the bones of his wrists. You quirk a brow at the sight, equal parts disgusted, amused, and impressed.

My, what a pair the two of you must look like.

You huff in amusement and decide to indulge the stray thought, chasing it down the proverbial rabbit hole as Sans continues to stuff his face. Maybe it’s because you’re surrounded by couples, that today is Valentine’s, and that there are hearts and declarations of love all around that your mind is tossing up unwanted hypotheticals, but you find yourself wondering: _could I see myself dating Sans? Would I ever_ **_want_ ** _to date him?_

You haven't know the guy for long, you remind yourself. You do know a few things about him, though, what with sharing a living space and all, your mind counters; that he’s an absolute slob, that he’s always trying to rile you and his brother up, but there’s also the fact that he’s surprisingly attentive. Sure he’s often crude and crass, and his people skills could definitely use some refinement, but he always seems to know when you need a good laugh or pick-me-up and is more than eager to supply his unique brand of humor (though poor Papyrus is often left to suffer for it). You haven't missed the way he hovers close when you're out in public, either, the tension he holds, as if ready to take on any attack at the drop of a hat.

You bring the straw to your lips and sip as you study Sans with a critical eye. You’re not sure what you’re looking for, exactly, but you take in his marred bones—the many nicks, cracks, and scratches that litter the visible portions of his body; the way the little pips of ruby red light that denote his irises catch on the rims of his eye sockets; that golden tooth, at home among his smirking maw.

...smirking?

You blink, blink again, and then blink several more times in quick succession before shifting your gaze to take in the whole of Sans’s face.

Oh.

Yeah, he’s definitely smirking at you—grin wide and at shit-eating levels.

The straw falls from your lips as you force yourself to slowly, _casually_ , straighten in your seat.

“What?” you deadpan as you begin fiddling with a fry on your plate. You stuff it in your mouth and ready another, acting for all the world as if you hadn't just been checking out your skeleton roommate.

Sans just chuckles. “nuttin’,” he replies as he grabs a napkin and starts cleaning up his mess. You can’t help but watch the way his bones move—the way they bend and twist and work together with nary a muscle fiber nor tendon in sight. It's fascinating to watch and you just can’t seem to tear your eyes away. Not until another deep chuckle rumbles forth from the skeleton, anyway. You blink and force your gaze from his hands, focusing once more on your neglected plate with its half-eaten burger and barely picked at fries; you hadn't been very hungry when Sans insisted you go out. He laughs again and you tell yourself you didn't just flinch, that it's just unseasonably hot out here and that's why your cheeks suddenly feel so heated.

“hey, hey, sweetheart,” Oh goodness, don’t acknowledge you heard him. “i don’t mind ya ooglin’ tha goods.” Sans continues, and you can just _hear_ the smugness in his voice, can see that self-assured grin splitting his mug. Ugh. Great. He's going to be _incorrigible_ for the rest of the night, you just know it.

Don't admit anything; don't acknowledge anything.

“So what’s the verdict,” you deflect, grabbing up another fry and using it to motion at Sans’s decimated plate, all the while trying to avoid his gaze. “D’the burgers here pass your almighty judgement or were you just that hungry?”

“heh. don’t think i don’t know what yer doin’, bud, but fine.” He nabs a fry from your plate, completely ignoring your indignant squeak of protest. “i’ll bite. if ‘m bein’ honest, it ain’t half bad—ain’t no grillby’s but it ain’t bad.”

“Uh huh.” You try to whack his clawed phalanges away as he makes another grab at your fries, grumbling as you somehow manage to miss despite the close proximity. “Must be a flamin’ hot endorsement, coming from you. Hey!” The jerk just nicked _another_ fry. “Stop stealing my food, you ass! Place another order if you want more!”

“naw,” he says between laughs. “s’too fun watchin’ ya struggle.”

That prompts you to finally meet his gaze, eyes squinting and lips set in a frown. He actually has the gall to look proud of himself. Oh, this little piece of-!

You scowl as he munches on your fries, muttering to yourself, “Can’t believe I even entertained such a stupid idea.” No way would you ever date an ass like him!

Sans quirks a brow, pliant bone arching as that stupid grin of his spreads. He tilts his skull towards you, his chin braced on his palm. “oh? what’s that? got somethin’ a’ say?”

“No, nothing,” you mumble, shoving the plate towards him. “Just shut up and take them, you heathen.”

“oooh yeah, with pleasure!” You grimace as he wastes no time devouring the fries much like he had the burger. How someone can be so messy eating fries, you'll never know.

It's not long after that Sans has finished devouring what was left of your meal. The bill is paid and the two of you are making your way past the check-in desk, the young woman manning the station smiling bright and wide at the two of you.

She waves, which you return on reflex, and calls out, “Happy Valentine’s Day, you two! Have a nice night!” as Sans holds the door open for you. You choke on a sputter just as you pass the threshold, eyes widening and cheeks heating because she _totally made the assumption_. You spare a glance at Sans as you pass him, expecting to see some manner of salacious expression adoring his face but all you see is a puzzled befuddlement. He meets your gaze before falling into step beside you, phalanges jamming into the pockets of his jacket.

“th’ fuck’s ‘valentine’s day’?”

Well, that's another question answered.

You take a moment to school your expression, to calm your suddenly racing heart and to fight back the heat on your cheeks. Biting your lip helps to further distract yourself.

“Pretty much just another commercial holiday,” is your even reply, and _heck yeah_ , you _nailed_ it! As the two of you make your way back to the apartment complex you continue: “People typically buy chocolates, flowers, or whatever for their significant other—some people’ll get stuff for their friends and family, too. My dad, for example, would always get me a yellow tulip.”

“huh. n’ people _willingly_ take part in that kinda sentimental crap?”

“Every year,” you say as you glance ahead of you, about a block down the street. Your gaze lands on a local florist’s shop and you can’t help the grin that works its way across your lips as an idea comes to mind.

Sans, on the other hand, just glares at the ground. “tch. that’s some pansy-ass bullshit if you ask me.”

You shoot him a questioning look and notice how closed off his posture now is; how he’s drawn in on himself. Maybe you’re reading too much into it but he almost looks… disappointed?

You loop an arm around Sans’s, pulling him with you towards your new, spontaneous destination. He shouts in surprise and makes a weak attempt at pulling himself free but you refuse to acquiesce, instead only holding him tighter against you. “C’mon, you nasty little gremlin, I’m getting you something for Valentine’s Day.”

He sputters half-hearted protests and breaks out into that ever-present magical sweat of his as you pull him into the quaint little store but doesn’t bolt when you release him. He doesn’t say anything as you walk away from the check-out stand and hand him a single yellow tulip. He somehow manages to sink down into the collar of his sweater and the fluff of his hood, as if sulking, but you note the careful way he carries the flower and the tinge of red to his cheeks.

The two of you continue most of the remaining walk home in a nice, companionable silence.

 

* * *

 

Papyrus doesn’t comment on the flower you bring him, despite Sans’s insistence that it’s a silly gesture and no way would his brother accept some stupid weed as a gift (funny how Sans didn’t make any such declarations about his own flower). Instead, the tall skeleton surprises you (and his brother) with a tender, albeit brief, expression aimed at the proffered flower—a yellow tulip, just like the one you got Sans. In a blink, however, his expression is back to neutral placidity.

He doesn’t say anything as he shifts to hold the vase close to his chest, merely dips his skull towards you and holds your gaze with that of his empty eye sockets for one beat, then two, before he turns on his heels and walks down the hallway towards the room he shares with his brother. You tell yourself the red dusting across his cheekbones is just a trick of the light, a combination of his scarf bleeding into the light of the setting sun from the window, reflecting on his bones.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Valentine's Day, everyone! Hope you had a good one and that you enjoyed this little tid bit!


End file.
